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Wicked: Fall of Bigsby Manor
A historical story concerning Mayor Bigsby and the events that led to the corruption of Bigsby Manor - many of the events in this story are eventually revealed to the protagonists of the Wicked series in the modern era via ghostly activities and relics of old. Wicked: Fall of Bigsby Manor Arc I In the summer of 1843 a smart gentleman made his way to a newly built manor in the middle of a large plantation, the man was welcomed with open arms by friends and family as crowds began to gather - the man smiled and made his way inside, for on that day he was a proud father. Indeed as the gentleman made his way into the manor he had helped build he felt himself overcome with a sense of great pride, only a few days earlier he had been appointed the mayor of the nearby village and now with news his wife had finally given birth to his first son Mayor Bigsby couldn't be more happy. His plantation had already made him a wealthy man, his social status continued to grow and he already began to think on how his son could provide the perfect heir to the many wonders he planned to create. As the crowds continued to converse amongst themselves Mayor Bigsby made his way up the stairs to his wife's room and soon held his infant son in his arms for the first time, the doctors confirming he was a healthy boy and no complications had arisen. Still filled with joy Mayor Bigsby gave his young son back to his wife and kissed her on the forehead before taking his leave, heading back to the crowds and spending much time entertaining guests. By the time night finally fell upon the manor the guests had left and Mayor Bigsby sat alone by a large fire, it was then that the once proud and happy Mayor was reminded of a darker past - for no soon had he started to relax than a shadowy figure manifested at the corner of the room, as small as a child but seeming to be covered in fur like an animal, two feline-like eyes stared over at him and a mouth filled with sharp fangs spread out into an impossible smile. "..you.." Mayor Bigsby began, starting to stand but finding himself suddenly frozen in place as the strange figure held a small doll, still staring at Mayor Bigsby and seeming to hold unnatural control over him as it continued to smile. "Poppy said he'd be back, didn't he Mr. Bigsby? Poppy hasn't forgotten what Mr. Bigsby promised.." the fuzzy demon said, it's voice disturbingly calm yet tainted with ancient darkness as the small figure started to walk forward, the fire starting to illuminate more of its body, paw-like feet padding silently across the floor as small hands held the doll in place. "..no.. not now.. not now.." Mayor Bigsby began, only to grip the chair in pain as his chest began to pound - Poppy digging a claw into the doll's chest and stopping, those eyes seeming to glow brightly as the demon spoke again. "Poppy been patient.. let Mr. Bigsby build over nice forest.. where all of Poppy's best friends sleep.. now Mr. Bigsby give Poppy what Mr. Bigsby promised.. or Poppy will have to show Mr. Bigsby why he should not lie to Poppy..". "..w-what do you want from me?.." Mayor Bigsby asked, the pain in his chest finally fading as Poppy's claw retracted from the doll. "Mr. Bigsby promised Poppy to help with the harvest.. Poppy gave Mr. Bigsby good harvest.. now Mr. Bigsby give Poppy his reward.." Poppy replied. "..of course.. b-but.. I still don't understand.." Mayor Bigsby replied. "The old has to die.. so the young can grow.." Poppy explained, sitting down by the fire. Mayor Bigsby went silent at this, staring at Poppy with equal parts fear and disgust before he finally replied "..there are many in the village who are old and sick.. I shall bring them to you..". Poppy nodded, flicking a large ear as it dropped the doll onto the floor - at once Mayor Bigsby felt himself able to move again: "Poppy glad you understand.. bring them down to the basement - start the harvest..". Mayor Bigsby nodded back, getting up slowly - before leaving the room he stopped to ask a final question: "..w-what about my son? w-will he be safe?..". Poppy tilted its head a little then seemed to chuckle a little, the flames seeming to dance as the demon replied: "Poppy promised that Bigsby's be powerful.. Poppy does not break promises to friends..". Arc II It was the summer of 1880 when Mayor Bigsby I was put to rest, his son stood by the grave alongside several friends and family - staring silently as the coffin was lowered into the ground and the priest attended to the ceremony, yet the words were blurred in the mind of the young Mayor, who had been voted into the same position as his deceased father. As the rain began to fall over the Manor he had inherited the young Mayor made his leave from the grave, heading across the barren expanse of land that had once been active plantations - glancing briefly at the emptiness the young Mayor felt a bitter taste in his mouth, he had lost that war.. yet he continued to fight another war, one his father had shown him long ago and one he could not afford to lose. Pausing for a moment the young Mayor turned to see his own son (no older than 11) following behind him, extending a hand outwards he gave a solemn nod as his son took the offered hand and the two entered the Manor - those gathered outside knew better than to follow as the doors closed behind them. The pair paused near the end of the hall leading into the Manor and the eldest Bigsby pulled a small switch on a nearby wall, causing a door to open, leading to a spiraling staircase which the pair descended, the wall closing behind them as medieval-style torches lit the stairs, attached to the walls by iron supports. As the pair reached the end of the stairs they were greeted by a large wooden door and a man dressed in a plain clothing with a burlap sack over his head - looking to the pair the man gave a quick nod and handed them both two burlap sacks, which they proceeded to slip over their own heads as the wooden door opened before them. "Poppy glad you could come, so sad to see old friend go.. so nice to meet new friends.." a voice spoke from the shadows as they entered a small room filled with candles, an elaborate series of occult symbols were etched over the walls in no particular order and a small fuzzy creature sat in the corner of the room, eyes staring out as a mouth of razor-sharp fangs spread into an impossible Cheshire grin. "We need to know if you intend to keep our promise.. my son and I.." the eldest Bigsby began, only to go silent as the small figure raised a paw-like hand as if to signal silence. "Poppy not break promise, you stay powerful.. son grow big and strong too.. all you have to do is help Poppy.." the creature replied. "Of course.." the eldest Bigsby replied, nudging his son forward - as if knowing what to do, the younger Bigsby stared over at Poppy and froze, for a brief moment the spectral image of his deceased grandfather seemed to linger in the shadows. Poppy motioned over to a nearby altar that held a strange book on it, the younger Bigsby went over and opened the book - reading aloud from the first few pages as his father stood in silence, both still wearing burlap sacks over their heads: "..the world is akin to a field, every so often a harvest is required.. to remove the old and make way for the new.. it is our duty to fulfill the will of those who came before.. for this Manor can not exist without them.. we gladly give our lives and souls to the darkness.. so our young may see the light.. our sacrifices shall liberate the future generations.. such is the word of the great spirit himself, who has shown such wonders to us.. yes.. indeed.. we are blessed to have such a caring master.. for while we must die, our children shall be spared.." Poppy made another small gesture with his hand and the younger Bigsby went silent, his father stepping forward and placing a hand on his shoulder as he took his place, flicking through the pages of the book and saying out loud: "..we willingly give our bodies and souls to He Who Waits.. so that we may forever aid in the harvest that must always come each year.. in return our Dark Lord grants us the promise of an eternal reign.. our sons shall rule over the lands surrounding this Manor and as long as we elders remember our oaths no harm shall come to our young.. let us remember all these things and more as we follow our orders without question.. now and forever.." Poppy remained in the corner as the elder Bigsby closed the book and turned to his son, who had already bent down onto his knees, facing away from his father. The elder Bigsby acknowledged this, giving Poppy another glance as the small demon gave a nod - eyes sparkling as the elder Bigsby pulled out a whip he had kept hidden in one of his pockets, uncurling the weapon and turning to his son. "I am proud of you.. never forget that.." the elder Bigsby said. "..my body is no longer my own.. my soul belongs to the Manor.. do as you will.. for my Master.." the younger Bigsby replied, bracing himself. Poppy watched in silence as the elder Bigsby proceeded to whip his son's back repeatedly, the candles causing light to "dance" across the room - as this occurred the book on the altar opened by itself and a shadowy presence begin to manifest, taking an old quill and writing down new words on the book: "..we shall endure great pain and suffering, we shall show no fear.. for while most men grow blind in the darkness we shall grow to be one with it.. we shall have no equals in the world of men.. for we shall surpass them.. we are the eyes and ears of the Ones Who Came Before and if necessary we shall also be their mouths and fists.." Eventually Poppy raised a hand and the whipping ceased, the younger Bigsby remaining silent as he kneeled on the ground, fresh wounds covering his back - yet in defiance of nature these wounds started to rapidly heal and even the fabric of his clothing stitched back up, as if nothing had occurred. "..we are truly blessed.. for we are immortal.. now and forever.. in the presence of our Master.." the shadowy figure finished, fading into nothingness as the book closed and the quill fell to the ground. The eldest Bigsby finally removed his burlap sack and smiled, looking to his son, who stood up and turned to face his father - also affording a smile as he seemed to be filled with a sense of perverse pride, the two men soon looking back to Poppy. "Poppy glad that little Bigsby is now part of family.. big Bigsby can begin harvest now.." Poppy stated, watching the pair. "Yes, Master.. I have already begun arrangements to have the eldest members of the village brought to the Manor.. we will be ready soon.." the eldest Bigsby replied. '' "Poppy happy to hear.. bring little Bigsby with you.."'' Poppy said. "Of course, always.." the eldest Bigsby replied, taking his son and exiting the room as Poppy continued to sit in the corner, watching their exit with unblinking eyes that seemed to sparkle with ancient wisdom and malice. Arc III It had been 20 years to the date since Bigsby II passed away and his son stood in silence at the edge of the village neighboring the Manor that had supported his family for generations - at his side was his own son, the future Bigsby III. The two men were dressed in Confederate-era uniforms and although Bigbsy II was left with his face exposed his son had a burlap-sack over his head, as did a number of men who gathered around them with torches. The Mayor addressed a crowd of villagers who had been rounded up and spoke with authority born from a man who believed himself the messenger of forces beyond mankind's understanding: "Brothers and sisters, I call to an end the bloodshed that has tainted this fair village for the last three years.. we can not afford to kill one another now, in a world that is already lost.. we must learn to obey our Dark Lord without question and without fear.. what say you? can we end this madness and allow this year's harvest to be completed without the use of force?". The crowd seemed uneasy at first but eventually began to chant, the Mayor giving his son a momentary glance - then went back to the crowd: "Then bring forth your able-bodied menfolk to the Manor and leave your women and children at the church, save for the women who have been chosen.. you know who you are.. the Dark Lord's voice will of come to you.. let this harvest be the beginning of a revival.. to bring back the peace that was robbed by three years of petty rebellion..". The crowd chanted again and the Mayor turned, climbing onto a nearby horse while his son did the same - the other uniformed men stood to attention as the Mayor stated: "The Bigsby Boys shall take you all to the Manor, the trip will do you good.. remember, Boys, treat these fine people well.. yet do not allow the seeds of revolt to poison the crop again..". The uniformed men gave nods of acceptance and began to advance towards the crowds, the two Bigsby men riding out of the village and not bothering to look back. It was not until the two had left the village entirely that the younger Bigsby rode up alongside his father and commented: "Do you think the people will truly stop? they fear us now, the Master's word is growing ever more mysterious..". "The people will do as they are told, my son - the Master requires sacrifice.. we all knew that.." the elder Bigsby replied. "I know father, I just hope we did enough.." the younger Bigsby said. "The village folk can not be erased as the slaves were, son, yet they must learn their place.. the Master's will is not ours to question.." the elder Bigsby replied. "Of course, father.. of course.." the younger Bigsby said. "Just remember, son.. when you become ruler of this land you must become a King - forget about those fools who talk of the forefathers and the constitution.. this land belongs to us, the Bigsby, we are immortal.. we are invincible.. remember that and you will always be able to do what must be done for our Master.." the elder Bigsby stated. "Yes.. I will remember.. always.." the younger Bigsby said, riding along with his father to the Manor, not daring to speak another word. Arc IV It was a cold winter's eve in 1932 when a group of strange figures gathered outside the Bigsby Manor, dressed in the uniforms of Confederate-era soldiers but sporting burlap-sacks over their heads - the figures stood to attention at the gravesite of Bigsby III and kept watch over the site as his son knelt over the grave and placed a small ragdoll on the grave, the doll having a missing eye and numerous pins jammed into it. The figures soon began to chant and lit torches as the son stood up, turning towards the Manor - "..go to the village, gather the women and children - put them in the old church and get the menfolk over here.. drag them by their scrawny necks if need be.. tell them the harvest is coming.." the son said. The figures continued to chant as they headed out over the Manor grounds, torches burning in the night as the son made his way into the Manor and closed the door behind himself. The son stopped a short distance from the main hall and pressed against a nearby wall, opening a hidden panel that led to a spiraling staircase lit by medieval torches - going down the staircase he began to think to himself on how he really needed to update the Manor sometime, to make it a living testament to his family's long legacy. For now however he knew he had only one purpose and sure enough found himself confronted with a wooden door, there was no guard however, the position having long faded away as a small table holding a key and a burlap sack stood in their place. Taking the burlap sack and putting it over his head the son proceeded to unlock the door and entered a dark room filled with candles, elaborate occult symbols marked the walls and several large blocks now decorated the room. The blocks had been placed by his father to accommodate the Master's new style of harvest, in which the village teenagers would watch as chosen men and women engaged in murderous rituals as the Master sat and watched from one of the blocks, the other blocks being used as blasphemous altars to the barbaric and perverse. Looking at the blocks he could see the blood stains from previous harvests and several rag-dolls hung from the roof, these were also recent additions to the harvest and the Master seemed fond of them, each rag-doll was mutilated in some fashion and hung from their necks as if on nooses. "Poppy glad you came.. we begin harvest soon?" a small voice asked, a fuzzy demon sitting in the corner of the room. "As always, Master.." the son replied. "Poppy pleased.. this be a special harvest.. cause Poppy want you to draw it in book.. Poppy know you good at drawing.. yes, you draw harvest.. draw Poppy.." the demon said. "I do as asked but why would you wish for me to do this?" the son asked. "Poppy know you not want heir.. Poppy want to remember Bigsby.. you help Poppy.." the demon replied. The son went quiet, he knew he could not father a son but hearing it from Poppy made his heart sink - yet knowing that his Master wished to keep him in His memory filled him with old pride as he gave a nod and replied: "Of course, Master.. I shall make it the most glorious of harvests.. yes.. I will not fail you..". Category:Historical Category:Grimdark Category:Horror Category:Tragedy Category:Origin Stories Category:Joecoolio Category:Solo Stories Category:Finished Stories